


Hand in Glove

by winterstorrm



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF!Merlin, M/M, Merlin Modern AU, Minor Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstorrm/pseuds/winterstorrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once inseparable, Arthur and Merlin were torn apart five years ago.  When a chance meeting brings them back together their lives are thrown into chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand in Glove

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merlin glomp_fest 2011. Beta read by casualtheatrics.

Today was the day, finally. No more feeling scared for his life every single moment of every single day. No more counting down the days with the only reprieve from his terror had being the closing of the cell door, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his memories. With his all-consuming grief.

Today was the day Merlin became a free man again after four years behind bars - half of his eight year sentence - for the manslaughter of Cenred King.

Today was the first day of the rest of his life.

  


**-0-**  


Merlin’s Mum’s house was the same as it always had been, small and cosy, with ancient seventies décor that had done the rounds and was fashionable all over again. He wouldn’t stay there long; it was just the address to which he was released from prison, where Probation could keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t re-offend. Merlin had no intention of ‘re-offending’; before what had happened, he had never so much as nicked a chocolate bar from the corner shop.

The sooner Merlin could find somewhere else to go, the better it would be. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his Mum, he did, but Ealdor was one small town, one tiny dot on the map that Merlin wanted to see the back of. It held too many memories. Most of them were bad.

Yet despite all of the bad, everywhere he turned, Merlin saw Arthur. Memories of Arthur were always bittersweet.

 _Arthur._ The first time Merlin met him was at ‘Avalon’ where Merlin had worked behind the bar. Arthur had been a year younger than Merlin and was studying his A-Levels at Ealdor Academy, an exclusive boarding school mainly populated by the children of the rich and famous. Merlin had been attracted to Arthur the first moment their eyes had met in the dull light of the club with the sound of ‘eighties hour’ and Morrissey providing the backing track. Arthur’s tousled hair, his teasing blue eyes and the crooked smile had embedded themselves into that place in his lower belly where Merlin always _felt_ from. He’d dismissed the feeling; Arthur was way out of his league. No one had passed Arthur that memo though, and not long after that first meeting Arthur’s place in Merlin’s heart had been reserved and he had moved straight in.

Merlin almost couldn’t believe it when Arthur had flirted with him and tipsily claimed that destiny had brought him to the bar that night. Merlin had played along, too smitten to care about Arthur’s reasoning for wanting _him_ : Merlin Emrys, small town boy with an addiction to tattoos who worked three jobs just to keep the loan shark off his mother’s back.

It hadn’t taken long for them to become inseparable.

Merlin saw memories of Arthur when he walked through Ealdor Park, remembering how they’d loved to lie under the old oak tree that spring of their year together, when Arthur would read to Merlin, Merlin’s head in Arthur’s lap, their hands threaded together, unwilling to let go even to turn the pages.

Merlin saw Arthur in the back of the old cinema on the high street, at the top of Castle Hill where they used to walk on Sundays and a thousand other places.

Arthur wasn’t here anymore. He had left Ealdor four years ago when he’d finished school, and as far as Merlin knew, he was happy somewhere else, living his life without Merlin. He could be married, he could be a father, he could be _anything_ ; Merlin wouldn’t know. In those four years, Arthur had never written, visited or taken one of Merlin’s calls.

Merlin had given up trying to contact him after six months of heartbreak, when every day that he didn’t hear back from Arthur felt like a year. He had been missing Arthur so much that he’d found himself on suicide watch for a short time, with a permanent appointment with the prison shrink. It had taken a long time for Merlin to come to terms with the severance of Arthur from his life.

Of course, really, Merlin couldn’t blame Arthur if he didn’t want him anymore. Merlin was a murderer. He’d _killed_ someone. Never mind that it hadn’t been deliberate, that he’d been protecting Arthur from the notorious Cenred King who had seen him kissing Merlin and had seen fit to ‘see what the pretty boy has in his big fat wallet’.

That nightmare night, Merlin had found Cenred holding an unconscious Arthur by the neck against the wall in the bar toilets when he’d gone to see what was keeping Arthur so long.

When he’d seen Arthur vulnerable, with a knife at his throat he’d ordered Cenred to get his hands off Arthur, and when Cenred had laughed and pressed the blade closer, touching the bare skin on Arthur’s neck, and Merlin had seen red. He’d punched Cenred, acting purely on instinct and Cenred fell back and hit his head on a basin. Merlin had been more concerned with getting to Arthur than with what had happened to Cenred who, if he had fallen one centimetre the other way, would have simply fallen to the floor. Instead, the blow to the head had killed him.

There had been no witnesses, and when Arthur had woken up in hospital he’d had no memory of Cenred’s attack, just his homophobic taunting about his kissing Merlin. He had not been aware of what Merlin had done – Merlin was already remanded in custody, separated from both Arthur and his freedom.

The lack of witnesses, and the fact that Cenred was one of the loan sharks Merlin’s Mum was in hock to, had been the main break-down in Merlin’s defence for Cenred’s murder and Merlin had been sentenced to eight long years. Arthur had not been in the courtroom.

Merlin had killed a man, and he’d paid for his crime a billion times over. He’d lost his freedom, and worse than a death sentence, he’d lost Arthur.

  


**-0-**  


There wasn’t much employment around for ex-offenders, even if they did have Merlin’s intellect and had picked up a first class degree in English language whilst in prison. Thank heaven for Uncle Gaius and his bar in Greenwich, ‘Café Camelot’, which made vague attempts to be a coffee shop during the day and was a busy café bar by night. Waiting tables and serving drinks wasn’t exactly Merlin’s dream, and in four years, nothing had changed with his career prospects; he was still working long hours and serving people for a living. However, Uncle Gaius knew his history and he saw the man the boy had become. He could look beyond the tattoos and the dead expression in Merlin’s eyes and see the nephew he loved.

Merlin gradually found solace in the company of Gaius’s head barman, a friendly Irish bloke named Gwaine. Ironically, Gwaine’s past was a hell of a lot more colourful than Merlin’s without the official seal of a prison sentence and the label of ‘killer’. At one time, Gwaine had had the ability to find a fight at a funeral.

It was two months before Merlin let Gwaine kiss him; a part of him still held on to his memory of Arthur, like the real thing might manifest before his eyes and tell Merlin that the last four years had been a very bad dream. Gwaine knew what Merlin had done, and he still wanted him. Gwaine loved Merlin despite his being numb inside.

Gradually, the four years since Merlin had seen Arthur crept towards five. Merlin and Gwaine moved in together and Gwaine moved on to a better paid job, the kind only open to people _without_ criminal records. On Sunday mornings Gwaine would make Merlin breakfast and they’d lie in bed catching up on that week’s ‘Never Mind the Buzzcocks’ and giggling like teenagers.

Life was good, better that Merlin had hoped it could be. Merlin _didn’t_ think about Arthur anymore; except first thing in the morning when he woke up, and randomly during the day when he was daydreaming, or when he saw a flash of blond hair walk past the restaurant. If he spent August the eighteenth in bed claiming a headache, it wasn’t because that was Arthur’s birthday, it was because he’d had way too much to drink the evening before. No, Arthur was a long gone distant memory now. He had to be.

Merlin’s carefully constructed life was safe. He was happy, as happy as he could hope to be at least. So when, about a week before the five year mark, the flash of blond hair in Merlin’s peripheral as he served drinks at the bar _wasn’t_ someone else, but _was_ Arthur Pendragon, Merlin was frozen to the spot in shock.

When Arthur met his eyes, there was nothing, no flash of recognition, no anything.

The tiny spark of hope that lived inside Merlin, deep down, buried beneath the reality that was his life, shrivelled up and died.

  


**-0-**  


Years of practice – how to behave when one is the son of Uther Pendragon - was the only barrier to Arthur’s ploughing his way through the busy throng of tables and leaping over that bar. _Merlin_. Merlin Merlin Merlin. Oh God. For a moment the years fell away and Arthur was seventeen again, seeing Merlin for the first time in that seedy club back in Ealdor. That had been the most magical moment of his whole life to date.

He wasn’t seventeen now though; he was twenty-three and any moment now his _fiancée_ Gwen would walk through that door, expecting Arthur to be smiling and wanting to hold his hand over the table as they waited for their food to arrive.

Arthur couldn’t do that; he couldn’t hold Gwen’s hand and act like everything was normal when it so wasn’t. When Merlin was just a few feet away, close enough for Arthur to take a few steps and touch. He had to get out of there; Gwen had wanted to try this place, but if Arthur left before she and the others arrived and proclaimed it fully booked then Gwen would believe him; she was trusting like that. Dear, _sweet_ Gwen.

He turned his feet towards the door, ready to go, but at that moment it opened with a gust of air, and Morgana tottered in, closely followed by Gwen and Leon. Dammit, too late.

With a resigned sigh, Arthur allowed himself to get swept up and coerced into a table in the corner, mercifully with his back to the bar. What followed were the slowest few hours of Arthur’s life; though not nearly as slow as those long weeks after Merlin’s arrest when Arthur had been so conflicted, not wanting to believe what was happening, trying to see Merlin and being thwarted at every corner. Now that seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had only been – what – five years or so? He wasn’t that person anymore. He was older, wiser and so much more careful who he gave his heart to.

“The barman’s been burning a hole in the back of your head all night, Arthur,” Gwen said as she daintily ate her rhubarb fool. “He’s actually kind of cute, if you like tattoos. Which of course, _I_ don’t, not that there’s anything wrong with a tattoo,” she covered, glancing nervously at the butterfly on Morgana’s inner wrist. “Er, what do you think, Morgana – is there such a thing as too many tattoos?”

Morgana shook her head, “They suit him.” She was watching Merlin through narrowed eyes, before turning suspiciously to Arthur. “Gwen’s right though, he _has_ been staring over here the whole night. Are you sure you’ve never – you know-?”

Arthur’s bisexuality was no secret. Merlin was. He turned to look at Merlin, for show, blue eyes clashing and turned back quickly, shaking his head. “I think I’d remember if I’d ‘you know’ with _him_ ,” he said with a brittle laugh as his mind conjured up the tiny tattoo Merlin had had on _his_ inner wrist, a tiny dragon within which was written: ‘Arthur’.

Guilt flooded him. He should have tried harder. He’d left Merlin to rot in jail. _He should have tried harder._

  


**-0-**  


Merlin couldn’t help himself, staring at the back of Arthur’s head as if he could bore a hole with his eyes and – and _what_? He didn’t know. It just hurt, so much, Arthur’s dismissal of him like he’d been _nothing_. Merlin guessed that was true now; he was nothing, just another ex-criminal trying to fit into a society that looked down upon him.

“Merlin, is everything alright?” Gaius asked, coming out his cubby office with the stock order book, peering at Merlin over his glasses. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Merlin glanced back over at Arthur’s table, just in time to coincide with him turning his head to look at him; in fact, Arthur’s whole party was looking at him. Nausea rolled in his stomach. “I think may I have…seen a ghost I mean,” he offered Gaius a wan smile. “Actually, is there any chance you could cover the bar for the last hour? I really don’t feel too good.” This was the truth; if he stayed any longer he might pass out.

“That’s fine, Merlin,” Gaius said pleasantly. He held up the notebook he was carrying, “I can finish this in the morning.”

“Thanks Unc,” Merlin squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He stepped out back, grabbed his hoody and his rucksack, and without as much as a glance back out the front of the house, specifically Arthur’s table, Merlin left via the side door. He needed to get home, curl up into Gwaine and remind himself what he had now was as good as what he’d had then; better even, because he could trust Gwaine.

Gwaine took one look at Merlin’s face and opened his arms. Merlin found he was crying for the first time in nearly five years.

  


**-0-**  


When Arthur looked again, Merlin had gone. He thought maybe he was out the back, in the kitchen, but when he didn’t come back, Arthur knew he had left. He felt as though the bottom had just fallen out of his world.

That night, when he went home, Gwen leaning into his side with a happy smile, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to pretend that everything was fine. Nothing was fine. Gwen went to bed alone, and Arthur stayed up with a bottle of whisky and opened a locked file on his laptop labelled ‘Ealdor’.

When Gwen found him the next morning he was lying face down on the sofa, his laptop closed and thrown to one side with his left hand wrapped around the neck of an empty whisky bottle. All Arthur could think as she woke him, was thank god the bottle had only been one-third full when he’d started on it, as he’d probably be dead by now otherwise.

Gwen helped him up, almost shoving him in the shower and turning it on, standing over him with a worried expression. She dried him and manhandled him into him into bed, before sitting on the edge beside him and taking his hand, “I’ve never seen you like this, Arthur. What’s wrong?”

“Last night, something about that barman, Gwen, he reminded me of my first boyfriend, that’s all.” He didn’t want to lie to Gwen, but that was as close to the truth as he wanted to get. He could hardly admit now, after the event, that the barman they had all been teasing him about _was_ his ex.

She bent over him and kissed his forehead, “I understand,” she said quietly. “I’d be the same if someone reminded me of Lance in the same way.” Lance was Gwen’s ex; he’d been killed in Afghanistan three years ago. She closed the door softly behind her as she left the room, and Arthur drifted off.

  


**-0-**  


Arthur didn’t plan it, but when he found himself back at that café two days later, he was not exactly surprised with himself. Merlin had been all he could think of since he’d seen him the other night. When did he get out of prison? How had he been? Was he okay? Did he have someone? Was he happy? Did he still hate Arthur?

There was no sign of Merlin when Arthur first entered, so he took a seat in the corner and ordered a coffee and a sandwich off a pretty dark haired waitress and decided not to ask if Merlin was around. Perhaps his shift hadn’t started yet? He helped himself to a newspaper off the rack and immersed himself in reading some bollocks about David Cameron and Nick Clegg having secret talks behind the backs of their parties.

“What are you doing here, Arthur?”

Oh, so Merlin _was_ working. Arthur put the paper down and looked up at Merlin, his heart beating like crazy at the sight of him, at his _proximity_. Of course, Merlin has to know that this second visit is no coincidence. He swallowed nervously and tried to smile. “I wanted to see you.”

“You saw me well enough the other night, but you didn’t even acknowledge that you knew me.”

Arthur felt the guilt tighten his chest. “I’m sorry about that; it was a shock, that’s all.” He sighed. “Won’t you sit down for a few minutes, catch up?”

Merlin snorted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you? It’s been five years, and I’m pretty sure that _you_ know what _I’ve_ been doing. As for me, I couldn’t care less what happens in your life. So, no, I won’t be sitting down. In fact, I think it best if you leave.”

Arthur gaped and tried to hide how much that _hurt_. “Merlin-”

But Merlin was already walking away. Arthur pushed back the urge to cry, silently dropped a note on the table to cover his bill and left.

  


**-0-**  


“Why didn’t you let him have his five minutes?” Gwaine asked that night, when Merlin had got home and ranted for twenty minutes on Arthur Pendragon’s nerve.

“Why should I? _Why should I?_ Gwaine, this is a man who told me he loved me, that he’d never leave me…who abandoned me to serve eight years alone. I don’t owe him _anything_.”

“The reaction he can still draw from you tells me otherwise,” Gwaine said gently, his hand wrapping around Merlin’s wrist. “Maybe if you talked to him you might find closure?”

“Closure? I don’t need-”

Gwaine ran circles over Merlin’s wrist with his thumb. “I think you do.”

Merlin sighed and leant his head on Gwaine’s shoulder. “Even if I do, I sent him away. I’ve lost the chance.”

“I’ve a feeling he’ll be back,” Gwaine said. “If I were him, I wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

Merlin laughed. “If you were him, he would never have left me.”

“True…but if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have you now, would I? So I have something to thank him for.”

Merlin curled into Gwaine and ignored the tiny niggle that reminded him he’d never loved Gwaine as much as he’d loved Arthur’s little finger. He immediately felt guilty at the thought, because Gwaine was _perfect_ in every way, everything Merlin could want. Other than he wasn’t Arthur Pendragon.

  


**-0-**  


Gwaine was right. It took nearly a week, but sure enough, Arthur turned up again. This time he was waiting outside for Merlin to finish his shift.

“I thought I’d told you I’m not interested in having a _chat_ with you, Arthur. Did I not make that clear enough last time?”

There was a tightness to Arthur’s jaw and Merlin thought he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping very well. _Good._ He hoped Arthur’s remorse was eating him alive.

“Look, I realise I should have acknowledged you that first night, but I was shocked to see you, and my fiancée was there, and it was just too awkward.”

“Yes, I realise introducing your ex-con ex-boyfriend might be socially embarrassing for you.” Merlin glared at Arthur and started walking in the direction of his bus stop. He heard Arthur follow but he didn’t slow down, or turn back.

“Merlin, please-?”

Merlin stopped, “Please what?” His traitorous mind flashed back to a time when Arthur had said those words to him in a totally different situation to the one they were in now; usually resulting in Merlin fucking Arthur into the mattress, or the grass, or the wall, or _wherever_. Those days were long gone.

“Please give me a chance, I just want to talk.”

Merlin sighed, because he’d already promised himself that he would do as Gwaine had suggested and try to get ‘closure’ from Arthur. “Okay, where?”

“My car is parked just round the corner,” Arthur said. “I don’t live that far away. Come back with me, it’ll be more private.”

Merlin nodded. “What about your fiancée? Won’t she mind your bringing me back?”

Arthur shook his head, “I don’t live with Gwen.”

Merlin filed that away under ‘interesting’ and said, “Lead the way.”

  


**-0-**  


They were silent in the car, Merlin preferring to look out of the window at the streets of London whizzing past. When Arthur parked in an underground car park at what looked like an exclusive and expensive block of flats, Merlin wasn’t in the least surprised. The Pendragon’s had enough money to buy every flat in the block and then some.

The silence continued into the lift, tense and heavy. Despite his better judgment, Merlin wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Arthur, feel the stubble of his chin beneath his fingers, map the changes the years had wrought on his face. He tucked his hands into his pockets and vowed to keep them there.

“Can I get you a drink?” Arthur said when he had unlocked the front door and was leading Merlin into the lounge.

“Um, water please,” Merlin said, studying the layout of the large living area. There were two very comfy looking sofas with a multitude of ethnic cushions, a long oak coffee table with a couple of magazines atop it, in the corner was a large television and a huge case of DVDs and CDs. The place was unexpectedly _homely_ and for some reason it made Merlin want to cry.

Arthur vanished into what must have been the kitchen and came back out with a pint glass of water, handing it to Merlin and stepping back quickly. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing at the sofa nearest to Merlin. Merlin perched on the edge and waited for Arthur to do the same.

“So, you’ve got me here,” Merlin said, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, already regretting agreeing to come here and into Arthur’s home. “Let’s get this over with.”

When they had been together before, Merlin had been living with his Mum, and Arthur had had a room at the school which had been personality free. Being here now, seeing how Arthur lived when it was his choice, felt wrong. It was like this was a part of Arthur he could never know, the person he had moved on to become when he’d left Merlin behind.

Arthur closed his eyes briefly before speaking, “I wanted to know that you were okay, happy, you know? I still care about you-”

Merlin jumped to his feet with a snort, “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.” He slammed the glass of water onto the coffee table and headed for the door. Fuck this shit; he didn’t want to hear Arthur’s ‘concerns’ for his wellbeing. If he’d cared one jot he could have at least written _once_ all that time Merlin was in prison, missing him, wanting him, wondering where he was and why he never even _pretended_ to care.

  


**-0-**  


Arthur watched in horror as Merlin headed to the door, ready to exit his life again. He didn’t want to let him go without _knowing_ if he was okay.

With a speed he hadn’t known he possessed he was in front of Merlin, blocking his path to the door, his hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. “No,” he said. “Please, Merlin-”

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that to me,” Merlin spat, knocking Arthur’s hand off his shoulder and trying to sidestep him.

Arthur backed towards the door until he was blocking it with his body and Merlin was _right there_ in front of him, trying to wrestle the door handle from just behind Arthur’s arse. His hand brushed Arthur’s leg, and then his other grabbed Arthur’s hipbone as he tried to shove him out of the way. Arthur felt the blood rush to his cock at the contact. Merlin was so close, _so close_ , and all Arthur would have to do was-

He tipped his head forward and pressed his lips against Merlin’s. Immediately Merlin stopped struggling for the door handle and froze. Arthur raised his hands to Merlin’s chest and pushed forward, taking Merlin’s lower lip between his teeth and sliding his tongue between his lips.

Merlin groaned and shoved Arthur back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You-”

Arthur cut his protest off by kissing him again, levering himself back off the door and aligning his body with Merlin’s. God this felt good, like coming home. He’d missed this, missed Merlin, missed the unbelievable chemistry that crackled between them whenever they were in the same room. He ran his hands across Merlin’s arse and ground his groin into his, his erection meeting Merlin’s.

Merlin pushed him back violently, Arthur’s head hit the door with a crack, but he didn’t feel any pain, all he could think was _Merlin Merlin Merlin_.

“I fucking _hate_ you,” Merlin said grabbing Arthur’s neck and pulling him into him for a kiss. “ _Hate_ you.”

Merlin took control, like he always had; kissing Arthur like it was their last day on earth, all tongues and spit and breathlessness. The hand that wasn’t curved around Arthur’s neck began to undo his belt buckle, and Arthur’s jeans slithered to the floor. Arthur stepped out of them and kicked off his trainers. Merlin’s hand found its way beneath Arthur’s boxers and gripped his cock. Arthur’s head slammed back against the door again and Merlin took advantage by nuzzling into his exposed neck and biting. Arthur groaned.

Before he knew where he was, the rest of Arthur’s clothing was scattered across the floor and Merlin had twisted him round and was backing him towards the sofa. Arthur vaguely noted that Merlin was still fully clothed, save for the hoody he had discarded when he’d entered the room and had been leaving behind in his earlier anger.

Merlin turned Arthur around and bent him over the sofa, roughly breaching his entrance with two fingers, causing Arthur to groan and drop his head forward. “Did you _miss_ me?” Merlin hissed into his neck. “Did you miss _this_?” He dropped to his haunches behind Arthur and Arthur had to bite his lip when Merlin’s long wet tongue circled his hole before thrusting inside with a series of forceful jabs. His hand moved between Arthur’s legs and spread them, before playing with his balls, tugging them between his fingers.

One last jab of his tongue and Merlin sat back, and Arthur heard him fumble with lid of something, and then the fingers were back, slippery this time, stretching him wide. It bloody hurt, but at the same time, felt so good. “Did you miss me fucking you?” Merlin hissed, and Arthur heard a wrapper tearing and then the head of Merlin’s cock was at his hole and Arthur wanted to bear down, impale himself.

Merlin swiftly pushed inside, his hands moving to Arthur’s hips in a tight grip.

“Merlin, please…” Arthur muttered.

“I told you never to say that,” Merlin growled, and seeming content that Arthur was ready for him, began to thrust into him in earnest. Fast, hard and without mercy. He was still fully clothed. Arthur could feel the scratch of fabric along the length of his back as Merlin moved inside him.

Merlin bit down on his shoulder and Arthur cried out, “Merlin!”

“Remember me now, don’t you?” Merlin said. “Well, I hope you don’t think this means anything. Do you know how many blokes I fucked in prison just to blot out the memory of you? _Do you_?”

He picked up pace, slamming into Arthur relentlessly, grabbing hold of Arthur’s wrist when he tried to touch himself. Arthur had never been pounded so violently before; he could _feel_ Merlin’s palpable anger in every thrust. He clung to that, because to be this angry, a person _had_ to care.

Arthur’s orgasm began in his fingers and toes and began to take hold of his body, rushing through him until he nearly combusted from the pleasure of his release. He couldn’t contain his cries of Merlin’s name as he slumped forward over the back of the sofa, spent, his come dripping off his own stomach, over the fabric of the sofa. Merlin thrust three more times and stilled with a muffled grunt, his cock pulsing inside Arthur, before he too slumped forward, his ragged breath warm in Arthur’s ear.

When their breathing steadied, Merlin stepped back, snapping off the condom and throwing it on the floor. Arthur stood and turned, watching as Merlin tucked himself away and zipped up. His face was flushed, and even with what had just happened, Arthur’s heart still managed to stop at the sight of his red kissed lips and his hazy eyes.

Those eyes met his and Arthur remembered Merlin’s declarations of hatred towards him, how he’d said this meant nothing, and that was reflected now in his eyes. Nausea swam in Arthur’s stomach as Merlin grabbed his hoody off the back of the sofa and said, “Do you get it now, Arthur?” and slammed out of the door.

Arthur sank to the floor and dropped his head in his hands.

  


**-0-**  


Merlin waited in the dark for Gwaine to come home. His head span. His chest hurt. He’d screwed up so spectacularly that he couldn’t even see a way out of it.

When he heard Gwaine’s key in the lock, his heart almost broke. Gwaine had mended him. Gwaine loved him. Yet, Merlin didn’t love him enough to stop himself from fucking someone else.

“Merlin?” Gwaine called, the light flicking on in the hallway as Gwaine took his coat and boots off.

“In here,” Merlin called back, sitting up straight and waiting.

“You won’t believe the- Merlin, what’s wrong?” Gwaine took one look at his face and stopped in his tracks.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered his voice cracking. “I – Arthur – I fucked him. I’m so sorry.” He watched Gwaine carefully, seeing the emotions chasing across his face; the hurt and the resignation soon replaced with a softness Merlin hadn’t expected.

Gwaine sighed and sat down on the sofa beside Merlin, taking his hand. “I knew as soon as he came back into your life that I would lose you,” he confessed. “I think I knew I only ever had you on loan.”

“But- No, I love you, Gwaine. I would never use you like that.”

Gwaine dropped his eyes, “Merlin, its okay. I gambled on his never showing up and I lost.”

Merlin shook his head, “I was really rough with him, Gwaine. I _wanted_ to hurt him. I wanted him to feel like nothing, the way he made me feel. How could I do that? I was so angry at him.”

Gwaine remained silent, and Merlin couldn’t blame him, he probably didn’t want to know details.

“I’ll stay on the sofa tonight if that’s okay? I’ll be out of here tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to go, Merlin. Stay as long as you need. Just because – I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.” Gwaine kissed his forehead and stood. “Think about it, yeah?”

Merlin nodded, grateful and guilty all at the same time.

He watched sadly as Gwaine disappeared into the bedroom, his shoulders slumped despite his words.

What had he done?

  


**-0-**  


Arthur took himself to New York on a business trip he could have given to one of the juniors; he couldn’t bear to be in London, he needed to get as far away from home and from Merlin as possible.

When he returned after three weeks, he went straight from the airport to the café, unable to think of anything else other than seeing Merlin again. The trip had only served to give him time to think, and Merlin had been number one on his thinking agenda. Arthur was caught in Merlin’s tractor beam again, and he didn’t know how to escape; evasive action was not an option.

Again, when he arrived, Merlin wasn’t there. Arthur took a seat in the corner and asked the waitress if Merlin was coming in today. She replied that she wasn’t sure as Merlin had been unwell, but she would go and find out. She took his order and headed back to the bar, leaving Arthur to wear his nerves ragged.

His order took forever and the girl didn’t come back with it; a tall dark-haired man did, serving him his beer, and then seating himself in the chair next to Arthur, swigging on a bottle of his own.

Before Arthur could say anything the man said, “You must be Arthur? I’m Gwaine, Merlin’s _boyfriend_ , or at least I was until you showed up. Freya called me.” He nodded back towards the bar where the waitress was watching with a nervous frown.

Arthur felt the blood leave his face. “Boyfriend?” he croaked as a little voice in his head said, ‘yes, Arthur - remember Gwen?’

“I don’t know what you want, but you have to stop. Merlin was fine until you showed your pretty-boy face in his life again. He doesn’t want you and he certainly doesn’t need you, alright?”

“That’s for him to tell me, not you,” Arthur said, squaring his shoulders. This… _person_ wasn’t anyone to him and he had no right to tell Arthur to stay away from Merlin, only Merlin could do that. “Where is he?”

“Why now, Arthur?” Gwaine said carefully. “It’s been _five years_ , then one chance meeting and suddenly you’re looking for a way back into his life? Merlin waited for you, every day his hope dying a little more. Not one letter, phone call and certainly no visits! You don’t deserve to polish Merlin’s boots!”

Arthur gaped, confused, but Gwaine wasn’t finished.

“He got sent down for fucking defending _you_! You make me sick. Leave. Him. Alone.” Gwaine stood and stared down at Arthur. “Drink your beer and then leave.” He stalked off, and Arthur followed his path as he slammed his bottle on the bar, waved at the waitress and left.

_Not one letter, phone call and certainly no visits!_

Arthur had written to Merlin nearly every day for that first year until he’d finally accepted he was never going to get a response. Arthur had tried calling the prison, but was always told that Mr Emrys did not want to talk to him. He wasn’t allowed in to visit without being sent a visiting order, and Merlin had never sent him one, because he had never written to Arthur.

Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

  


**-0-**  


Merlin moved into the tiny flat above the café that he had been living in before he moved in with Gwaine. It had a tiny kitchen and a bedsitting room; it would do Merlin until something better came along. Gwaine had asked him to stay, but in all conscience, Merlin knew he couldn’t. He did love Gwaine, but not enough to keep it in his trousers around Arthur. He’d suggested they have some time apart, but he didn’t see them getting back together after this.

So, what had happened with Arthur had been angry sex, and Merlin regretted it. He never wanted to be _that_ person. Arthur had walked back into his life and Merlin had let the anger and bitterness take him over. What he should have been doing was getting the closure Gwaine said he needed and telling Arthur to take a hike without showing him how angry and hurt he was.

What a spectacular failure that had been. Arthur would have to be a moron not to realise how bitter Merlin was, had to know how he had pined for Arthur, how he’d felt that being away from him might actually be the end of him: death from a broken heart.

Of course, the separation was the least of Merlin’s problems; he could have lived with that were it not for Arthur’s continued refusal to have anything to do with him. Merlin had defended Arthur against Cenred and he knew he would have thrown himself in front of a flying bullet for him; yet it seemed that meant nothing to Arthur. Merlin was out of sight, out of mind.

Obviously, bumping into Merlin again had triggered Arthur’s conscience.

When he dozed off after working a double shift that had finished at 8pm, Merlin leapt out of his skin when there was a hammering on the door to his flat. Someone desperately wanted to be allowed entrance; Merlin only hoped it wasn’t Gaius asking him to work some more because he was exhausted.

He opened the door to find Arthur, who barged past him without a word leaving Merlin with no choice other than to shut the door in his wake and turn to glare at him. It had been over three weeks since _that_ night, and there had been no sight of Arthur since. Merlin had presumed he had got over his need to reassure himself that Merlin was ‘okay’ right about the time Merlin showed him exactly how _okay_ he was.

“What do you want now?” Merlin asked wearily, not really having the energy for a confrontation after the number of hours he had worked that week. Tonight was his first night off.

“I went to see my father,” Arthur said, trying to catch his breath, and only then did Merlin notice that Arthur looked dishevelled and flushed, like he had been runung.

“So?” Merlin had only had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting Arthur’s father once, when he had turned up for an impromptu visit at the same time as Arthur was giving Merlin a blow job in his school bedroom. That had been how Arthur had come out to his father.

“So-” Arthur wrenched a rucksack off his back and up ended the contents on the tiny table in the corner of the room. What looked like hundreds of unopened envelopes spilled out, some of them missing the table and falling to the floor.

Something cold curled around Merlin’s heart as he stepped forward and picked up and envelope. It was addressed to him, in Arthur’s handwriting. “Oh God,” Merlin breathed. “Are those what I think they are?”

“It gets worse,” Arthur rummaged through the pile and brought out an envelope addressed to him in Merlin’s writing. “The bastard- I’m only glad he decided to keep them as trophies.” He collapsed onto the sofa and dropped his head in his hands.

Merlin slumped down beside him, too shocked to speak.

“I’d put money on him being the reason behind you never wanting to take my calls-”

Merlin gasped, “You called me?”

Arthur sat back up, and nodded, “At first, at least once every day. But when they kept telling me you didn’t want to talk to me, I – well – I stopped calling in the end, but I kept writing for a year. I hoped that one day you might write back. Now I guess we know what really happened.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what to think.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I should have tried harder; I should have considered that my Father might be behind this. He was suspiciously supportive- Oh _God_ , Merlin – _he paid for your solicitor_!”

“I-” Suddenly _everything_ clicked into place and Merlin’s head began to spin. “Arthur, I can’t do this now. Please, I need to be on my own.” Merlin had gotten used to coping by himself; it was how he needed to do things now, for his own good health.

Arthur looked disappointed, but nevertheless he nodded and quietly left. Merlin sat, staring at the pile of letters for what felt like an age, before silently gathering them together and opening those that were addressed to him. There were 203 of them. He meticulously sorted them by date, and when he had done that, he lay back on the sofa, and one by one, he read them all.

When he was done, it was 4am and he was silently sobbing.

Each letter, even the last one that declared Arthur was not going to write to him again if he didn’t receive a reply, was signed, ‘Love you always, Arthur.’

It was all Merlin could do to stop himself heading over to Uther Pendragon’s and earning himself another stretch inside for first degree murder.

  


**-0-**  


Arthur felt totally flat. He didn’t know what he had expected when he’d taken the letters to Merlin’s. Something _more_? When Merlin had asked him to leave, he had done so without question, sensing that Merlin’s need to be alone was an important part of how he processed things these days. The realisation that Uther’s solicitor may have been under his instruction as well was a shock. Arthur had always thought Merlin’s sentence was unreasonable for the crime – he’d been defending Arthur, it had not been premeditated and Merlin’s record was otherwise clean.

Merlin had lost four years of his life, all because of him and his father.

Arthur called Morgana and she came over straight away, and Arthur spilled the whole sorry story to her. He _needed_ to tell someone, and he couldn’t exactly tell Gwen, not since he had called off their engagement two days earlier. She was a sweet girl, and it wasn’t fair to string her along when one look at Merlin had been he needed to know he still loved him and had never stopped.

“He’ll come back to you,” Morgana had said as she pulled him into a hug. “He just needs time to process it all.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if this is too little and too late?”

“Then you go to him, and you convince him he’s the one for you.”

Now Arthur was alone, and four days had passed and there was neither sight nor sound of Merlin. Arthur wanted to go to him again, but something, some instinct, told him that it was important that Merlin make this choice. Merlin had to come to him.

  


**-0-**  


Arthur was on the verge of breaking his own promise and going to Merlin again, when finally, _finally_ , there was a knock on his door and Merlin was there. Silently Arthur held the door open and let Merlin pass, hungrily taking in every inch of him; the skinny jeans, the tight t-shirt, the numerous tattoos, the way his dark hair curled over his ears. He looked so young, so vulnerable.

One look in Merlin’s eyes and Arthur was blinking back the tears. Just the thought of Merlin, alone in that prison all of those years, all that time believing Arthur had abandoned him – Arthur’s heart broke again.

Arthur saw Merlin glance at the sofa, obviously remembering the last time he was here, what had happened over the back of that guilty piece of furniture. A guilty flush coloured his cheeks and Arthur said, “Don’t. Feel guilty I mean. We both needed it.”

Merlin nodded and chewed on the inside of his lower lip, his blue eyes meeting Arthur’s nervously. “I just brought the letters back,” he said and held up a carrier bag Arthur hadn’t noticed when he’d arrived, probably because he was too intoxicated with Merlin’s presence.

Arthur fought back a pang of disappointment. He needed more than that.

“I read them,” Merlin continued. “Your father has a lot to answer for.”

Arthur didn’t want to talk about his father. Uther Pendragon would be lucky if Arthur ever spoke to him again after what he’d done.

“I’m so, so sorry, Merlin,” Arthur exploded. “After everything, I should have thought, I should have realised that- After a while I started to think you must’ve blamed me for what happened, that you didn’t want me anymore because of that.”

“I never blamed you. I’d do the same thing again in a heartbeat to protect you and keep you alive.” Merlin’s cheeks were wet with tears. “I know it’s too late for us now, but I just wanted to tell you I never stopped loving you. Not even when I’d given up hope and convinced myself I that you were better off without me anyway.”

Arthur didn’t realise he’d even moved until his arms were around Merlin and his face was buried in his hair. He hugged him close, so tightly that Merlin must surely be struggling to breathe. “I broke it off with Gwen,” he admitted. “As soon as I saw you again-”

Merlin pulled back, shaking his head. “I did a good job on myself when I let myself believe you are better off without me, Arthur.”

“Bullshit. It all means nothing without you.”

“Arthur, I can’t just wipe out the last five years as though nothing happened. You weren’t there, I was so alone-”

Arthur felt his throat clog up with tears. He couldn’t lose Merlin again, he _couldn’t_. “Just give us a chance, Merlin. We’ve both changed.”

  


**-0-**  


Merlin searched Arthur’s face for any sign of doubt, but all he saw was uncertain hope. “So, are you saying you want to get back together?”

Arthur nodded. “I don’t want another five years to pass without you.”

“I don’t know, Arthur. Reading those letters has only reminded me how much you hurt me. I can’t help but think that you could have found some way to see me. My hands were tied, but you – you were free-” Merlin couldn’t look at Arthur. He wanted so much to just give in and say ‘yes, let’s give it another go’ but he couldn’t say the words.

What if Arthur let him down again? What if it didn’t work out?

“Merlin, please-”

Merlin’s head shot up and those words. They brought him to his knees every time. Arthur was watching him with such fear, as though preparing himself for Merlin’s rejection.

None of this had been Arthur’s fault. He’d thought Merlin didn’t want him anymore. He had been an eighteen year-old kid at the time; Merlin’s lack of contact must have hurt him as Arthur’s silence had hurt Merlin.

“Alright,” he said in a whisper. “We have to get to know one another again, Arthur. We can’t just pick up where we left off. It won’t be that easy.” Merlin thought about the nightmares he still suffered of Cenred lying dead on the floor, or worse, with Cenred killing Arthur and Arthur’s lifeless body on the ground at Merlin’s feet. Some night’s he still woke up screaming.

“I don’t care,” Arthur said, taking a step closer to Merlin, into his space, until Merlin could feel his breath on his lips. “We were so close once and you were my best friend. Whatever it takes, I want that back.” He reached out and folded Merlin in his arms, pressing his nose into Merlin’s neck, his hand on the back of his head.

Merlin hesitated before hugging him back, closing his eyes and inhaling Arthur’s scent. He didn’t know what the future held, he couldn’t know, but at least now there was hope – and for Merlin, that was enough.


End file.
